Effortless
by Blaze6
Summary: The role played by a tattoo in the phrase "soulmate puppy love". G/S


Title: Effortless  
  
Author: Blaze  
  
Rating/Spoilers: Uh…PG and one for And Then There Were None.  
  
Category: SR. No angst (surprise, surprise). And it's a GSR.  
  
Summary: The role played by a tattoo in the phrase "soulmate puppy love."  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. 'Nuff said.  
  
Author's notes: Well, I could write something snappy, but I just won't. Basically, I'm blaming Jorja Fox for the idea…it's her tattoo…even if her tattoo isn't what I'm claiming it is. Artistic license, okay? And I'm blaming both Jorja and Billy for the Geek Love, may there be more next season. Oh, thanks to my fellow cracked-out freak for everything! [you know who you are] Enjoy!  
  
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Sara has a tattoo on her ankle she is both embarrassed about and proud of. I'm the only one who's seen it, it's a burning star, like in the sky, not one of those things fourth graders draw…and she was quick to correct me when I thought it was the sun.  
  
She, the artist, and I are the only people to see it because she keeps it covered all the time. Somehow it is too girly, too non-scientist, too not- Sara to show it off. I completely disagree. For starters, what's girly about something on fire? Girly is flowers or hearts or something, not a burning star. And a star is a scientific discovery, so it is very scientist. I've told her a dozen times to describe it as a combustion reaction if she's embarrassed about it. Finally, what could better describe my favorite brunette than something as brilliant as a star and something as fiery as, well, fire?  
  
The star was permanently attached to her perfect skin one drunken night after a case in San Francisco. I went with her to the bar, went with her to the tattoo parlor, held her hand as the guy filled in the outline. She grinned at me that night and it may have been the first time I thought I loved her.  
  
I didn't see it again for almost three years.  
  
A sprained ankle at a crime scene made me take off her shoe and sock to wrap it and the star, Sara's personal brand, waved hello even as it swelled. "I didn't know you still had that," I said.  
  
Through her grimace, she said, "Of course," like it was completely obvious. Nothing about Sara is completely obvious. She doesn't quite get that.  
  
Her mother told me once a long time ago that it is the hardest thing in the world to love a Sidle if they don't love you back. She should know, she married one and raised one. I told her I thought loving Sara was the easiest thing I've ever done. Her reply: "Because she loves you back," in that same completely obvious tone.  
  
I wonder if that EMT she went out with would agree with her mother. I know he's never seen the tattoo. Sara told me she's only shown it to people she loves. And then she told me I'm the only person besides the tattoo artist to see it.  
  
I was flattered. But I had to ask… "You love the tattoo guy?"  
  
I got smacked across the chest with the latest issue of Journal of Forensic Science for that. Sara can be testy. Volatile, even. So after my smack, I got a kiss just to prove she's completely unstable if I joke around.  
  
The tattoo is always smooth, just like the rest of her, except it doesn't ever get hairy. "Scar tissue, you geek," she explained with a tease as I shaved her legs. That was fun. Her razor was ten times better than mine, so I stole it. She stole it back. We had a very fun week battling over it before she bought me one of my own. I still used hers. It's like drinking out of her coffee cup, so close to a kiss I can't resist.  
  
We have more fun than I have ever had in a relationship before. This is why they say it's better to be friends first. It's like soulmate puppy love. We just have such a big crush on each other that it makes everything a game. Oh, sure, we squabble over the remote and what's for dinner and who's showering when and whose coffee mug we're using this morning (she's given up on making me use a different cup now that she's gotten over her spit phobia). But we have fun solving the issues.  
  
She arm-wrestled me for channel privileges and won. We watched three hours of ice skating as "research." She wouldn't tell me what she was researching. I'm suspecting she was researching the effects of too much girly sports on a man. I'm sure I coincided with previous results…I fell asleep.  
  
Sara wins a lot, actually. She's even beating me at chess almost every time we play, so I've started to wash a lot of dishes and take out a lot of garbage and it seems that recently the apartment has gotten a lot cleaner. I don't mind, though, because in this particular setting, Sara's a very gracious winner.  
  
I've taken to hiding my crossword puzzles, because she keeps finishing them before I can. She grabs a pen and slings one arm around my neck to keep herself stable, scrawling in the last few clues as her hair gets in my face. I think Sara would quit if she ever got a clue wrong…but she's too smart to stop.  
  
I told Jim Brass a story once about a Harvard professor who had a group of students watch a basketball game and count the number of passes. Halfway through, a guy in a gorilla suit ran across the court, and when the professor asked the students about it, half said, "What gorilla?"  
  
The professor was a friend of mine, and I was lurking in the shadows of the class that day. I was blown away first by the response; I had certainly seen the gorilla. I was blown away next by the number of people who had gotten the number of passes wrong. I don't remember how many there were now, but I do remember that I was completely blown away by a young woman who raised her hand and not only gave the correct number of passes but a detailed description of the gorilla in a snidely confident tone.  
  
My first introduction to Sara.  
  
It's occasionally hard to reconcile my first impression of her with the woman who sticks her tongue out at me and expects me to do something about it. It's hard to reconcile that first impression with the tattooed beast who attacks me in my sleep, with the woman who can rattle off the complicated, ten-syllables-per-word name of some forensic test we "absolutely have to run" one minute and the next minute is saying, "I could really just jump you right now."  
  
The reconciliation between my first impression and what I live with every day is beautiful. I love to hear her brilliant, I love to hear her playful. I love how she gets embarrassed when I tell her she's beautiful, I love her every move. I really love her tattoo. I really love everything about her. I am so in love with her it hurts. Seeing those eyes and that face and everything Sara is every day is the best gift anyone could give, no matter how cliché that sounds.  
  
And regardless of how difficult her mother claims loving a Sidle is, to me, it's effortless. 


End file.
